


when the dream ends

by Bloodsbane



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dreams vs. Reality, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He heard Toriel sigh, and for a minute it was quiet. She was moving, doing something, but Sans was lost in his thoughts again. Beyond the kitchen it’s dark; if Sans concentrated, he thought he could see outlines. Frisk and the others walking back and forth. Other children - human and monster - exploring the school. The images were faint, like ghosts, but Sans saw them flicker past and could almost hear them talking, their conversations empty echoes of words he’d never heard, or had heard a thousand times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the dream ends

**Author's Note:**

> This fic explores the idea that Sans is not only aware of alternate routes or 'timelines', but he can also see/experience them to some degree through his dreams. I know there's a lot of ways to interpret his dialogue, but this is sort of my take on it! I really love Sans - there's so much more to his character than you'd think. So I really wanted to write something about him. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it~
> 
> (special thanks to my friend Dylan, who beta-read this for me!!)

Sans woke up in the middle of the night with a shudder, and the sensation of metal ringing against his ribs. Stricken by a lingering sense of fear and sorrow, he lifted a hand to check - but there was nothing.

It was dark - it was always dark in his room. Sans closed his eyes anyway and counted, and breathed, and opened them again as the dizzy sensation passed. It was always dark in his room, but which room was it?

His pillow smelled faintly of flowers. There was a window across from him, with a desk beneath it, and the desk had papers. Tests. Tests to grade. Sans sighed.

His room was dark and quiet and his ribs hadn’t been struck. It was all just a dream, just a dream; Sans sat up and rubbed his skull and waited for the last of it to pass. It stuck stubborn like a half-remembered punchline. Unwanted, it ached.

It was dark in the room, and cool, but not as cold as his room used to be. Sometimes Sans missed the snow - it numbed his bones, made everything feel sharp. Things were softer here. The colors, the faces, the voices.

The snow was gone. Now there was grass. He’d feel it on his bony feet, and it’d always strike him again and again, like steel against his ribs, how soft it was. How thick and green the grass was topside. The sun was warm on his skull and the grass was cool on his feet and the air moved, here.

Sans shuffled off the bed, catching his slippers with the tips of his toes, pale and bright in the dark. With slow steps Sans moved out of his room and into the hallway. It was quiet. There were no lights, nothing to guide him but the wallpaper patterns, which stood out in the dark. Sans closed the door behind him and walked.

It’s a long hallway, but two steps later he passes Papyrus’ room, then turns a corner and leaves Alphys and Undyne behind too. Another step; Frisk shares a room with some monster kid with no arms. They’re good friends now. Frisk still isn’t one for talking much, so the other kid does it for them most of the time. Frisk returns the favor by lending a helping hand. Or two. It’s cute.

Another step. The kitchen light is on.

Sans doesn’t have time to think before he’s stepping out of the dark, out of the hallways that are so long, away from stairs he doesn’t remember descending. Everyone’s behind him now, in the dark, down the hallway, asleep in their rooms. Sans squints against the light.

“Oh, Sans, is that you?”

“Yeah.”

Toriel is there at the counter, just like any other day. Any of the other dozen mornings Sans wakes up and meets everyone for breakfast. He remembers before, when he never woke up early, because there was never breakfast waiting. Papyrus always thought it was a waste of time - why make food so early when he could get out and scout for a human as soon as possible? “Eat the crumbs off your bed if you’re hungry!” he’d shout as he stepped out the door, into the cold snow, and Sans would listen to it crunch and think of bones being crushed into powder. Into dust.

There’s breakfast now though. Every day Sans wakes up and he can smell it from upstairs. He comes down every day and eats with all the others. It’s nice. It’s something to look forward to. Even on days when the food doesn’t taste like anything, it’s nice.

Every day, it’s nice.

“Why are you awake?” Toriel’s voice is soft - like the grass, like the shadows, like the touch of a memory lingering in his skull. “It’s so early.” She checks the time on her watch. It’s new - she bought it last week. Or... or, the week before? Two weeks from now? It glints in the light, a silver whisper. “It’s only five a.m. Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Sans says, and he grins. The short skeleton shuffled over to the table and pulled a chair for himself. “I thought of a good joke in my sleep and laughed so hard I woke up. Wanna hear it?”

The way Toriel perks up, that smile growing on her face, makes Sans think of the door, and the snow, and the woods deep down Underground. He remembers the first time he’d heard her voice though that door. How many times had Sans knocked before she’d asked who was there? How many jokes had been spoken into the air, with no one around to hear?

“I’d love to hear it,” she answers, wiping her paws with a towel and turning to face him fully. Sans notices clean dishes on the rack, but he isn’t sure when she finished. Had she been working on them when he’d entered, or had she already been done…?

Sans raps his knuckles on the wooden table. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Uh… Forgot.”

“Forgot who?”

“Forgot the joke,” Sans says, shrugging. “Sorry.”

Toriel giggles, and there’s a snicker in it too, Sans can tell by the way her nose wrinkles. It’s still so different. He feels like he’s heard her laugh a hundred times - a thousand times - a million times, he’s heard her laugh. It’s so different seeing it, seeing her face when she does it. “That is a good one! I think it’s even funnier because you just woke up. I often forget my dreams once I wake up too.”

_I don’t._

Sans nods and smiles, and feels exhaustion crawling up his spine. “Yeah, same. So, what’s got you up so early, T?”

“Oh, well, I woke up and was a little too anxious to fall back asleep,” Toriel says. She pauses, giving him a look, and Sans’ perks up at the sudden tension. It’s been pretty easy talking to Toriel since they met - it’s not often she seems nervous or hesitant when they’re together. “Sans, are you alright?”

The question actually catches him off guard. “Huh?”

“You look… tired.”

“Lazy people always look tired,” Sans said with a shrug.  

“Sans, really,” Toriel said, and her face grew serious. “You’ve been looking rather down lately. You’ve been falling asleep at irregular times during the day, and you haven’t been eating as much.”

Grinning, Sans looked away.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sans says nothing.

He heard Toriel sigh, and for a minute it was quiet. She was moving, doing something, but Sans was lost in his thoughts again. Beyond the kitchen it’s dark; if Sans concentrated, he thought he could see outlines. Frisk and the others walking back and forth. Other children - human and monster - exploring the school. The images were faint, like ghosts, but Sans saw them flicker past and could almost hear them talking, their conversations empty echoes of words he’d never heard, or had heard a thousand times.

It wasn’t always this bad. Most days Sans felt real. Most days he could ignore the dreams and maybe even forget them for a little while. He forgot them when he helped Toriel grade papers, or went out to dinner with his brother, or when everyone gathered around upstairs for a movie night. Sans could ignore how everything felt worn, when everything beneath his hands and feet felt familiar. How all of his jokes sounded stale.

How it was getting harder to laugh at anything.

Sometimes, Sans could ignore it all and his smile wouldn’t feel like a lie. Then there were nights like these, after the dreams, where Sans just isn't sure if he’d really woken up. The dreams… the memories… they feel so real. They feel like yesterday, or the day before. And when Sans woke up… had he really woken up? It was getting harder to tell. Not that Sans was sure it mattered much, anyway.  

“Would you like some tea, Sans?”

Sans looked up and noticed a kettle on the oven top, and mugs waiting on the counter. When had she…?

“Sure.” Sans watched his friend pour the tea, watched steam waft from the mouth of the cup. She took her time and her movements were smooth, careful; Sans felt himself relax a little bit. Toriel had that quality, and it was one Sans had yet to find in anyone else. Something about her made him feel calmer… safe. Like he didn’t have to worry so much about how fragile everything was, really.

Because, for so long, it felt like his entire life was waif paper thin. The dreams - the memories - came every night. Sometimes they were faint and happy. Sometimes they flew by quickly, like he was fast-forwarding through a movie. Then there were times when they were sharp and solid and real, and Sans could feel the snow, the way it felt hearing Toriel’s voice for the first time all over again; Sans could feel the uncertainty whenever he looked at Frisk; he could feel it, when Papyrus turned to dust, when everyone around him turned to dust. He felt the sensation of metal ringing against his ribs.

Again, and again, and again, he felt hopeless.

But then, sometimes, Sans would dream of a yesterday slightly skewed. Sans would dream of a dozen tomorrows, here with everyone, and they were all safe and happy. Except it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

The lines were blurry and soft and Sans wasn’t able to tell the difference anymore.

Sans saw Toriel’s shadow above him before he realized she had drawn so near. He looked up at her. She had two small mugs of tea in her big white paws, and a concerned look on her face, cut in half by the shadows behind him and the light of the kitchen.

“Are you just another dream?”

“Hmm?” Toriel’s voice was almost like silence. “I’m sorry, what did you say Sans?”

The skeleton closed his eyes and looked away, grin widening. “I, uh, said I like my tea with cream. Heh, sorry. Just tired.” His cheekbones ached. “But, you know what? I think I should head back to bed. Lay my weary bones to rest,” he said, starting to slide out of his chair.

Toriel’s face tensed, and Sans paused, if only for a second. Sans suppressed a sigh as another wave of déjà vu washed over him. She’d insist, hesitate, then wish him goodnight. She’d watch him walk away and drink the tea on her own. Sans thought perhaps he’d seen this in a dream, once.

Before Sans could set his other foot on the floor and walk off, Toriel said, “Wait! I… I think you should have your tea first.”

To Sans, it almost seemed rehearsed. He waved a hand and shook his head. He was so tired, tired of redundant conversations… tired of food that held no warmth or flavor. “Nah, it’ll probably just keep me up. Thanks, though-”

A hand fell on his shoulder, heavy even through the fabric of his jacket. Sans looked up at Toriel, surprised at the weight as it pressed upon him.

“Stay,” she said quietly, soothingly. Sans wasn’t sure if she was pushing him back into his chair or if he was doing it himself. “Have your tea first. It will help, I promise.”

Sans didn’t say anything, but obeyed her and leaned back into his chair. He muttered a ‘thanks’ under his breath when Toriel set his cup before him and then sat down. She took the seat to Sans’ right; the chair creaked quietly beneath her weight as she settled. “Mm, that’s nice,” she sighed, smiling. “I’ve been standing since I woke up about an hour ago.”

Sans took the mug in his hand and found himself surprised at it’s warmth. It crawled up his phalanges and sank into his bones. Watching Toriel take a sip, he politely followed suit and raised the cup to his teeth.

The drink was still a little too hot, but Sans drank it anyway. It flooded him. It burned. It tasted amazing. It tasted _different_.

The fact that Sans could taste it at all…

“This is delicious,” he said, and he was sincere. “Thank’s for the tea, T.”

Toriel giggled, and it sounded different, too. Like something new.

They talked for a little while before Toriel insisted Sans get back to bed. He resisted, of course - he didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to lose the feeling that this night was something special, something real. They spent another few minutes bickering light-heartedly about who should get up and off to bed first. Eventually Toriel bested him with a particularly clever skeleton pun. With a chuckled and a wink as he conceded defeat, Sans reluctantly got up and started off down the hall.

“Sans?”

He glanced back at her. His friend was standing there in the light of the kitchen, surrounded only by the quiet building and it’s nighttime shadows. Still, she was smiling.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Toriel said. “And even when it isn’t, you have us, Sans. We’ll be here for you no matter what. Okay?”

He thought about what she said as he went back upstairs. Back down the hall, past everyone as they slept. Back in the dense penumbra of his room, where he closed the door and was alone again.

Maybe this was all just a dream. Sans would fall asleep and wake up in the morning, and none of this will have been real. Or it was a different sort of real - a reality that wasn’t quite his.

But tonight the tea had been warm, and Toriel had been kind, and her laughter made him feel happy again.

Sans often wondered if the dream would ever end, if any of them would ever reach beyond what held them back. Because in all his many visions, memories, dreams… he never saw the end. Never caught a glimpse of the future, the beyond. The happy ending.

Well… it was impossible to know everything. Sans sighed and threw off his jacket, finding his place in bed once again. His pillow smelled faintly of flowers.

He could only hope, when the dream finally ends, everyone will be there with him. No matter what.

 


End file.
